


Decoration Day

by PennyLane



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyLane/pseuds/PennyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set three years after Sha're taken. After Fair Game, before Forever in a Day. A very special ceremony is held at Cheyenne Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decoration Day

Doctor Daniel Jackson stared at the broken pottery fragments littering his desk that were all SG-1 had to show for their mission to PCC598. That and his concussion and the torn ligaments in his knee, he amended wearily. They were lucky they got out with their lives.

 

He picked up one fragment and held it under the high powered magnifier, frowning at the faint symbols that had been etched there thousands of years ago. He really wasn't expecting to get any answers from what he'd managed to scavenge before their hasty retreat; what he'd really needed was a look inside that temple. Unfortunately, the native race had other ideas and they had the manpower and the weaponry to back them up. At least this time he was the only one who got dented; Jack, Sam and Teal'c all came back relatively intact. No thanks to him.

 

He replaced the pottery shard on his desk and rubbed his forehead with both hands. Sometimes he felt so useless on these missions. The team relied on him to understand the cultures they encountered and try to communicate with the indigenous populace. He'd recognized the culture on PCC598 as basically Incan, and the really fascinating part was that this would have been an incredible opportunity to see how Incan culture might have evolved through the centuries without the Spanish interference that had occurred on Earth. Unfortunately, he never had the chance to do more than put up his hand and say, "Hi" before they had been attacked.

 

Then during their mad retreat to the Stargate he'd managed to fall down an embankment, injure his knee and half knock himself unconscious, and Jack had been forced to kill three of the Incans who had been a hair's breadth away from skewering him. Sighing, he took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk. Sometimes it all seemed so meaningless. This wasn't what 'peaceful exploring' was supposed to be about. They should be studying other planets and cultures, learning about their universe, sharing knowledge ... rescuing Sha're. Dropping his head, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Three years, and he was no closer to finding her now than he was that day on Abydos when she'd been taken from him. For all he knew he was even further away...

 

"Daniel!" A hand on his shoulder abruptly brought him out of his dark thoughts and his head snapped up.

 

"Wha --" He blinked to find himself staring up at a frowning Jack O'Neill. "Jack?"

 

The older man searched his face, his frown deepening. "Where were you, Danny? That's the third time I called your name."

 

Daniel let out a sigh and picked up his glasses, replacing them on his nose before answering. "Just... taking a trip down memory lane," he muttered, trying to wave off O'Neill's obvious concern.

 

"Must've been one helluva trip," Jack observed, then gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "Anything I can help with?"

 

Daniel looked up again, met his friend's steady gaze, then shook his head with a tight smile. "Don't mind me. I'm just having what you might call 'a bad day', Jack."

 

"Ah." O'Neill nodded understanding, then walked around the desk and dropped into the chair opposite Daniel, giving the younger man a level look. "It might get a lot worse if Fraiser finds you here instead of where you're supposed to be."

 

"I'm resting," he protested immediately. Jack's eyebrows simply rose a fraction. "Well, I've got my leg elevated anyway," he mumbled. He gazed at his friend over his glasses, letting a hint of irritation creep into his tone. "You going to pull rank here?"

 

"I should," O'Neill retorted without a trace of humor. "The only reason she let you out when she did was that you were _supposed_ to be taking it easy."

 

Daniel waved a hand around his office. "Jack, I can't take it any more easy than this. All I'm doing is sitting here..." He pushed one fragment with his index finger... "staring at some broken pottery."

 

"Artifacts," Jack corrected with a straight face.

 

The archaeologist's head shot up, and when he saw his friend's innocent face, couldn't stop the grin that tugged at his lips. "Right," he agreed dryly. "Like you keep telling me."

 

"Get anything out of them?" O'Neill asked.

 

"Nothing that's going to help us. They certainly weren't worth the price," he added bitterly.

 

"Daniel." Jack's voice held a note of warning. "We've been through this. I'm sorry some of those folks got killed, but _they_ attacked _us_."

 

"But if I hadn't fallen --"

 

"It could have been any one of us."

 

"But it wasn't any one of us, was it? It was me. It's always me --" O'Neill's eyes narrowed, but Daniel held up a hand before he could say a word. "Okay, okay," he said ruefully. "Don't mind me. Like I said, I'm just having --

 

"A bad day," they finished in unison.

 

Daniel suddenly realized the colonel was in his dress blues. "Something up?" he asked, waving at Jack's uniform.

 

O'Neill cocked his head, a knowing grin on his lips. "You forgot, didn't you, Doctor?"

 

Daniel stared at him blankly. "Forgot what?" Then he pulled a face. "Oh, hell. Is that today?"

 

The older man tapped his watch. "Thirty minutes."

 

The archaeologist grimaced at his leg, propped on another chair in order to keep his knee elevated. "It'll take me that long to get my pants changed," he grumbled, thinking about his uncooperative and throbbing knee. Then there were the crutches to deal with... He turned a pleading look on his commanding officer. "Do I have to go?" When he saw O'Neill roll his eyes he realized he must sound like a five year old whining about going to bed.

 

"Daniel, it's the Secretary of Defense. You know how important it is we have his backing for this Project. That means everyone has to dress up and play nice with our Pentagon friends when they come to visit. Besides which," O'Neill looked at him pointedly, "you are the head of the archaeological and linguistics departments of this Project. The Secretary is representing the President, and remember the President is the one who expanded our missions to include all that 'meaning of life' stuff you're so fond of. You can be sure someone from that group is going to be asking you some pretty pointed questions about what we're learning and what progress we've made -- they can read it in the reports, but they're going to want to hear it first-hand from you."

 

Jackson sighed; he'd done this before and he knew the role he was expected to play, of course. Usually he enjoyed these meetings; they gave him a chance to really plug the cultural work they did and show off some of their successes in that area. But today he wasn't really feeling all that successful.

 

O'Neill leaned forward in his chair, frowning. "Daniel, are you feeling okay? Is that it? Fraiser said it was just a mild concussion, but you really gave yourself a knock on the head --"

 

For an instant, Daniel was tempted to grab at the excuse, but just as quickly put the thought right out of his mind. Jack worried about him enough as it was, and heaven knows he'd given him enough reason; but he wasn't going to intentionally cause his friend more concern just because he was out of sorts and didn't feel like dressing up and mingling tonight. "No, no, it's not that," he said quickly. "I'm fine, really." He shrugged apologetically. "I just forgot, that's all. I'll be ready."

 

Jack gave him a long look, as if testing the truthfulness of that statement, then slowly got to his feet. "Okay, then, I'll be back in twenty minutes to pick you up."

 

Daniel opened his mouth to politely tell his sometimes over-protective commanding officer he was quite capable of finding his way to the gate room by himself, then closed it with a snap. That little tumble he took earlier was reminder enough he wasn't all that proficient on crutches, and he'd been lucky Teal'c had been at his side to catch him before he hit the floor. Maybe having an escort for the long walk to the gate room wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 

He gave in graciously. "I'll be ready."

 

***

 

Daniel tried not to squirm in his chair as he sought a more comfortable position for his aching knee. It had taken him longer than he'd anticipated to get changed and he'd just finished when Jack arrived to escort him upstairs. He didn't even think about his overdue pain pills until they were halfway to the gate room. Jack would have gone back for them if he'd said anything, but he didn't want to make them late; protocol was very important for these functions, and he'd rather put up with an aching leg than embarrass Jack by making them late.

 

When they'd entered the gate room, everyone was standing facing the podium where the Secretary was to offer greetings from the President, but a lone chair had been placed along the wall, and that was where Jack led him. When he sank into it gratefully, O'Neill leaned over and murmured, "You sure you're okay?"

 

His reply of, "Just peachy" brought a soft snort from Jack, but the colonel had no time to pursue it because just then General Hammond stepped up to introduce the Secretary. They'd just made it in time.

 

With Jack standing to his right and Sam and Teal'c to his left, Daniel forced himself to pay attention to the opening remarks. He'd heard it all before on other official visits, but it was good to hear it again; the people who worked here and risked their lives going through the Stargate deserved to know they were appreciated and supported by their government.

 

His mind was starting to wander when the Secretary changed the tone of his speech and regained his attention. "As Secretary of Defense, it is often my privilege to publicly commend and acknowledge individuals for their selfless acts of courage in defending this great country of ours. Today, as representative of the President of the United States it is my privilege to honor a member of this Project for meritorious service performed not only in defense of this country, but in defense of this planet."

 

The last time the Secretary was here, Sam was promoted to Major. Daniel looked quickly at Jack, but O'Neill's face was in profile as he stood with his eyes on the Secretary. Was Jack being promoted? No one deserved it more. O'Neill had spent his whole adult life serving his country and put his life on the line time and again on Stargate missions. Daniel had never met a more courageous man in his life; but while his heart filled with pride for his friend, a corner of his mind uneasily wondered if the promotion would mean Jack would no longer lead SG-1. He squashed that thought immediately as unworthy and selfish. All that should matter was that his friend was being recognized and rewarded for his years of selfless service.

 

When he finally brought his attention back to the speaker, the Secretary was saying, "The Presidential Medal of Freedom is the highest civilian decoration of the United States." Daniel's eyebrows shot up. A civilian medal? Not Jack then, he realized with disappointment. "According to Executive Order 9586, the Medal may be awarded by the President to any person who has made an especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, or world peace, or cultural or other significant public or private endeavors." The Secretary paused here and smiled. "It's not often that one person makes such worthy contributions in all these areas."

 

Returning his attention to the paper in front of him, the Secretary continued, "The President may select for the award of the Medal any person recommended to the President or any person selected by the President upon his own initiative.

 

"The principal announcement of awards of the Medal shall normally be made annually, on or about July 4 of each year; but such awards may be made at other times, as the President may deem appropriate."

 

The Secretary put his paper aside and addressed his audience. "I don't have to remind you that the Stargate Project is a classified, top secret operation, that it is not possible for a public announcement of this award. But that makes it no less important and the recipient no less worthy. Instead of presenting this medal in a private ceremony in Washington, it was the President's wish that it be given here so that the recipient could be acknowledged in front of everyone at this facility. He was only sorry that an unexpected change of his schedule kept him from doing the honors in person."

 

He looked over at General Hammond, who said, "Please come to attention!"

 

The gate room reverberated with all military personnel snapping to smart attention.

 

The Secretary looked over to where SG-1 was gathered. "It is my privilege to honor the man who provided the key to unlock the secret of the Stargate and open the galaxy to exploration, whose courage has been proven time and time again in defense of his team and this planet, and whose quest for knowledge and true universal understanding serves to remind us all of the ideals of this Project." He paused, then announced, "Doctor Daniel Jackson."

 

There was a split second of incredible stillness, then a roaring sound filled Daniel's ears as he stared at the man on the podium. It took him a moment to realize the roaring was the sound of everyone in the gate room breaking into thunderous applause. He couldn't have heard his name. But... why was everyone looking at him? And why were the Secretary and General Hammond walking down the gate toward him? Through a haze he saw Sam clapping wildly, tears glistening in her eyes even while she was smiling so hard her face must hurt. Her mouth was moving rapidly, but Daniel couldn't hear what she was saying. Beside her Teal'c briefly closed his eyes, a smile on his face, then slowly bowed his head in the Jaffa gesture of honor.

 

He was frozen to his chair, unable to even move. Suddenly he felt a hand under his arm. "Come on, Danny," Jack murmured in his ear, helping him to his feet. "You'll want to stand up for this part."

 

His knee had stiffened up during the Secretary's speech, and his hands were shaking so badly from the shock he could barely grip the crutches O'Neill was trying to maneuver into place. He had a flash of himself falling flat on his face as the Secretary reached him, and turned panicked eyes on his friend. "Jack --"

 

Taking a step back, Jack kept a firm hand on one elbow. "You'll be fine, Danny. I've got you."

 

The Secretary and General Hammond stopped in front of him, the general holding a small rectangular box. The Secretary said some more things, words about sacrifice and courage and honor and duty, but Daniel didn't really hear them. The audience seemed to be a big blur behind the two men, but certain individuals sharpened into focus -- there was Ferretti who surreptitiously gave him a wink and thumb's up; Janet Fraiser, who was wiping her eyes; Catherine and Ernest! Where had they come from? Catherine looked proud enough to burst; even Colonel Makepeace had something of a smile for him.

 

But through all the words and all the applause and the firm handshakes of the Secretary and Hammond, Daniel was aware of two things: Sam and Teal'c standing nearby, pride shining in their eyes; and Jack's supporting hand on his arm.

 

***

 

Sam and Teal'c were the last ones to leave the party. Daniel didn't remember much about the moments right after the medal presentation; somehow he was seated again and people were swarming all over him offering congratulations. In the midst of it all Janet appeared by his side and handed him a glass of water and a tablet which he gratefully gulped down. Sometime after that everyone ended up at Jack's place, which had already been set up for a party.

 

While Jack saw to his hosting duties, Sam and Janet immediately settled him on the sofa with his leg propped on the coffee table and an ice bag on his knee, and that's where he remained. It was kind of embarrassing, sitting there like some kind of medieval prince holding court while people waited on him and offered congratulations, but Janet made it clear that if he so much as thought of moving from that spot, his next move would be back to the infirmary. Obviously, she pointed out sweetly, he couldn't be trusted to take his medication on time or completely understand the concept of 'rest'. When he would have argued, Jack helpfully poked his nose in, declaring, "You don't have a leg to stand on, Danny boy," and since he had no answer to that, he stayed put.

 

By the time Sam and Teal'c left his knee was pleasantly numb from the ice and Fraiser's pills and he was pleasantly numb from the whole evening.

 

After Jack had seen their team mates out, he went into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later, handing Daniel a cup of fresh coffee, and taking a seat on the coffee table facing him. Daniel smiled his thanks and took a grateful sip. It was the real stuff, not instant, he noted with surprise. The sudden switch from noisy celebration to peaceful stillness was something of a relief, and he dropped his head back against the cushions, enjoying the comfortable silence.

 

Jack picked up the small presentation box containing the medal that had been on the coffee table and studied it. When he looked up, his eyes were serious. "In all the commotion I haven't had a chance to say it: Congratulations, Danny. I don't know anyone who deserves it more."

 

Daniel felt his cheeks warm, partly with embarrassment and partly with gratification. The fact that so many people had been so pleased for him and thought he deserved the honor had honestly stunned him, but the man whose respect he cared about most was sitting opposite him. Those words meant more to him than any medal ever could.

 

"Thanks, Jack," he managed, stuttering only a little. "That means a lot to me."

 

An affectionate grin touched O'Neill's face. "You mean a lot to this project, Daniel. And to us, too." He held up the box. "It was good to see you get some of the recognition you deserve."

 

To cover his embarrassment, Daniel raised his cup and took another drink of coffee, then a thought belatedly occurred to him and his eyes widened, "You knew, didn’t you?" When Jack's grin widened, he rolled his eyes, remembering how the house had already been set up for the party. "Of course you knew."

 

"You know, for a genius, you're a little slow on the uptake sometimes," Jack teased. "Yeah, I knew, and I thought it should have been done a long time ago. Too bad the President couldn't be here to do the honors himself."

 

"All the people who really mattered were here," Daniel said softly, thinking about the looks on Sam's and Teal'c's faces, Catherine's affectionate pride, and the warmth of  Jack's hand on his arm. Then, without warning, a melancholy thought floated through his mind and he sighed. _Almost everyone._

 

"We taped it," Jack said suddenly.

 

"What?"

 

"We taped the ceremony," Jack repeated, his eyes intent on the younger man. "Sergeant Siler got it all on tape. You know, in case you wanted it later."

 

_So I can show Sha're when we find her. Jack hasn't given up; he said we'd find her, and he still believes that._ Daniel felt a warm prickle at the back of his eyes and quickly looked away, blinking rapidly. Leave it to Jack... "Thank you," he whispered.

 

Jack gave him a moment to compose himself, then said quietly, "Hey." When Daniel looked back, he said carefully, "For a bad day, it didn't end up too badly, did it?" and held out the medal.

 

Leaning forward Daniel accepted the box and gazed down at the bronze medal and red ribbon with the thin, white stripes.

 

"You did good, Daniel."

 

Daniel smiled, remembering Jack using those very words to him after he'd managed to persuade the Tollans to accept Lya's offer to live on the Nox's world, thus removing them from Mayborne's clutches. " _We_ do good," he corrected. "We do good work, Jack, all of us. It's good and it's important and it's --" He broke off as he saw Jack's grin. Clearing his throat, he rubbed the side of his nose. "But, ah, you knew that already, didn't you?"

 

"Yep. But I take it you need reminding now and then?"

 

Remembering his dark mood earlier and his feelings of disheartenment after yet another promising mission of peace ended in gunfire and death, Daniel conceded the point. "Only when I'm having a ... really bad day."

 

Jack nodded his understanding. "I tell you what. The next time you find yourself having a 'really bad day', you just look at that medal and you remember why the President of the United States awarded you the highest civilian decoration in this country. Or better yet, you come to me, or Sam or Teal'c, and we'll remind you. Okay?"

 

There was no flippancy in O'Neill's tone, none of his usual sarcastic wit. He was serious, and he was waiting for a reply. There would be bad days again, Daniel knew; they were a part of life. But he no longer had to face those days alone, not since he'd become a part of the SG-1 team. SG-1 _family_ , he amended, knowing they'd become that important to each other a long time ago. And that was what Jack really wanted him to remember. They would celebrate their successes together, and they would weather the bad times together, because that was what families did.

 

Daniel met Jack's level gaze and nodded, seeing his smile immediately mirrored on his friend's face. "Okay," he agreed, and he knew it would be.

 

 

**_end_ **


End file.
